


Homebrew

by ayyyy (RosaAquafire)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, FaceFucking, LIKE GUYS THIS IS PORNY AS FUCK IT'S FILTHY, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Credits, Predicament Bondage, Self-Loathing, Subspace, Sybian, good communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaAquafire/pseuds/ayyyy
Summary: Dirk invites Jake to facefuck him mightily. There are props.Bring a change of panties, shit is about to get wet.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumiho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumiho/gifts).



"Hey," Dirk says. He pulls his gloves off and throws them down onto the table. He breathes even and steady. Rolls his shoulders. Tries to relax.

"Hullo there, Dirk!" Jake always sounds so fucking delighted to see him, these days, and Dirk hides a smile behind his hand, stomach curling into knots. His boyfriend _(his)_ is sitting on the window sill with his phone angled out towards the ocean, and he keeps clicking shots. "Did you finish that new man of steel you're working on?"

"Nah," Dirk says, leaning back against the table. He worries at his lip, eyes sliding along the line of Jake's shoulders, his back, his waist. His ass, Earth's greatest fucking celebrity. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. "Got kinda caught up in something new."

"Oh?" Jake fiddles with his phone. "Something exciting, I'm hoping!"

"Uh, yeah. Maybe." He swallows down an entire writhing nest of anxiety snakes wiggling in his stomach, and tried to focus on, just, yeah. "Who are you snapping?"

"Oh!" Something seems to occur to Jake all at once, and he whirls with a big grin on his face. It shouldn't be possible for Dirk's heart to still flutter like this. "Shit and crackers, Dirk, you've gotta see this! There's a friggin' horde of seals frolicking around on the beach out there, playing with the salamanders! Jade has gotta see this, you know she loves seals."

Dirk really doesn't want to look at seals or talk about Jade, or anyone else, for that matter, because he's got other things on his mind. If he goes over there, sits down, watches seals, acts like a normal sort of dude with normal sort of Wednesday afternoon plans, he's gonna lose his nerve bigtime.

Spit it out, Strider.

"Actually, I was thinking maybe you'd fuck me."

Jake's eyes go wide. He blinks. Blinks again. And then, at at once, he jumps to his feet, tossing his phone onto the nearest chair, and bursts into the kind of stomach-dropping, heart pitter-pattering grin that could turn the straightest guy alive into jelly.

Dirk, who might be the _gayest_ guy alive, doesn't have a _chance._

"Boy howdy, why didn't you say so!" Jake is in front of him in a second, wrapping thick arms around Dirk's waist, pulling him close. The boner that Dirk's been lowkey choking down all fucking day leaps to proud attention like some happy meadow gopher at the feeling of Jake's hard body pressed up against his. "You spend all day working in there, sometimes." He's murmuring, kissing at Dirk's neck, and Dirk is rolling his head back and trying to keep his head on straight. "You know I miss you crazy."

 _Jake_ missed _him._ Fuck. "Bro," Dirk says, voice a little higher than he likes. "Uh, I feel I've got to let you know that if you ever get the urge in your head to disrupt my work, this is like, you know, a standing invitation."

Jake chuckles. It vibrates along Dirk's skin. "Standing at attention," he says happily, rolling his hips.

"You might never get that perfect pic of those seals..."

"Fuck, who gives a flying flip about seals?"

Dirk snorts. And then gasps and bites down on his own tongue when Jake glides his gapped front teeth down his collarbone. "Uh, wait," he says hurriedly. "Wait wait wait." Jake's got teeth at his ear and he really doesn't want to wait, but, fuck. Fuck. "Hold up, I'm kind of in the market for -- ah, fucking stop, for something specific --"

Jake stops immediately and steps back. Dirk is fucking _bereft._

Jake tilts his head, flickers of interest in his eyes and one corner of his mouth pulled up. He's so handsome it hurts. "Usually I'm the one whipping that line out," he says.

Dirk shrugs one shoulder. He tries not to be embarrassed, tries not to overthink. Karkat always says communication. Communication. Say what you mean. Say what you _want_. "Kind of got an idea in my head. Built some stuff, you know, got it all set up. It's... in the workshop. Right. Come on." He turns and heads back in, trusting Jake to follow him.

Dirk shows him the saddle. The controls. The chains. Knows he's blushing. Rubs the back of his neck like he's in an anime. Feels like some sort of Rube Goldberg Slut.

But:

"Oh, yeah." Jake's nodding so hard his hair is flopping a bit. "Hell yes, hell fucking yes! I can do this. Yes. Definitely." He gives Dirk an admiring look. "Cheese and rice, I am one lucky chap, you know that, Strider?"

And Dirk goes too tongue-tied to reply, just clears his throat and kind of nods and shakes his head at the same time and Jake laughs.

Five minutes later, Dirk's in Jake's lap, naked and squirming. His knees on either side of Jake's plush ass, his entire body aching, his hardened nipples rubbing up against Jake's open shirt. He's trying not to whine, trying not to writhe, trying to keep himself all carefully sewn together, but his stitches are fraying and coming apart and all of his stuffing is falling out.

Jake has got two slicked fingers in his ass, drawing them in and out, scissoring them, stroking him deep inside, playing with the sensitive ring of his hole, thrusting back inside again. It feels good, so good. A strangled, high sound escapes his lips. He clamps down. His cock rubs up against Jake's belly. Jake hums against his ear. One fingertip crooks to caress his prostrate and his head falls back.

Jake laughs quietly.

"Think you're good to get a wiggle on, there, Dirk?" he asks, voice rough and low in his throat.

Dirk swallows hard. "Yeah," he breathes.

Jake pushes him out of his lap. Dirk comes back to full awareness of himself as his bare feet pad along the cold cement floor to the rig he's built. He's incredibly cognizant of his flat, boney ass, the jutting spurs of his spine, his freckled, moon-pale back. Of how vulnerable he is, how awkward it must look, some naked stringbean with vaseline all over his thighs moseying along to some kinky-ass needy BDSM rig he built for himself. Wow. His dick starts to wilt.

But Jake sucks him out of the abyss of his own shitty head with a low whistle and an appreciative laugh. "Zounds!" he says, and Dirk yelps and his cock springs to standing, respectful attention when he feels a sharp slap across one cheek. "Now that," Jake muses, "is one _hell_ of a sight."

Dirk actually smiles.

Jake helps him into the saddle. Dirk forces himself limp, closes his eyes, takes deep breaths from the diaphragm. He lets Jake pull both of his arms back -- back enough that his shoulders pull tight and begin to ache -- and cuff him into the chains hanging from the ceiling. He lets Jake grab both of his hips and position him. He takes an unsteady breath when the head of the dildo pressing against his hole. He settles back on it. Shit.

_shit_

He's flush with the saddle, balls sandwiched tight against it, cock laying flat on it. To keep his balance, he's got to support himself on his knees and his toes. It's uncomfortable as shit. Leaning forward takes some pressure off his toes, but yanks at his chained arms. Leaning back gives his shoulders some rest, but impales him a hell of a lot further on that dildo, and within seconds, his feet start to get pins and needles.

It's... uh, it's perfect.

He opens his eyes, blinking in the dim light. Jake is pulling off his shirt and throwing it aside. And Dirk looks at his body, toes to hair, and a shiver goes through him. Jake is gorgeous. Jake is always gorgeous. And Dirk always loves looking at him. But...

But when he's like this, on his knees, trembling, uncomfortable, wanting, feeling himself and all of his bullshit start to sink beneath the surface of something... else, something more primal... Jake looks almost entirely different.

He looks... powerful. He looks dark and dangerous and strong. Dirk sees his muscles, the hair that dusts his body, the swells of his abs and pecs, the curve of his devastating smile, and he gets this thrill that goes through his entire body and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , but he fucking loves it.

"Hey," Jake says, staring down at him, breathlessly.

"Hey," Dirk replies, barely above a whisper. His licks his lips. His eyes go -- automatically, really -- to Jake's cock, which is heavy and hard and _just_ above eye level. He swallows hard. Licks his lips again.

Jake lets out a nervous little laugh. It breaks the tension -- a bit. In a good way.

"If you want me to stop --"

"Fuck. Hell. Uh, no dude, trust me, I am _not_ going to want you to --"

" _If_ you want me to stop," Jake repeats, and his eyebrows pull down and he gets this super serious expression that's just fucking cute more than anything else, and Dirk lets out a wobbly laugh, rebalancing onto his toes. "You've gotten start blinking like crazy, okay?"

"What, like I'm some Victorian lady fluttering my eyelashes at you?"

Jake folds his arms. "Now, listen here, mate. Your hands are chained up, your legs can't move, and, well, that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna be _mighty_ freakin' occupied in a few seconds! Which leaves only your eyes, or, uh, biting down, I guess? And _that_ is definitely out of the picture. So, yes. If you want me to stop, Victorian lady it is, sir!"

"Fuck, this is already so lame," Dirk laughs, and then a thrill like hitting the good part on a roller coaster goes through his whole body as Jake seizes a fistful of his hair and yanks him forward. The chains rattle, his entire body protests the treatment, and his cock twitches.

He shuts the fuck up. Immediately.

Jake holds his dick with his free hand. Dirk instinctively smacks his lips like a fucking whore when he focuses on it. He feels himself turning red, but he still opens his mouth like a fucking baby bird with mom gets back with a bellyful of worms.

He moans quietly when he gets the head in his mouth. He starts breathing deep, rhythmic, through his nose. He milks his throat for saliva, spreading as much as he can over the head. Jake hisses through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing in Dirk's hair. Dirk tongues the underside, swirls, teases the slit.

Jake pulls out. He wipes his dick along Dirk's cheek, leaving a trail of thick spit. Dirk shudders.

"Look at me," Jake encourages, and Dirk does as he's told, looking up, meeting Jake's eyes. They're shining from behind his glasses. It's almost too much, making eye contact. Intense, like there's a burning cord between them. Dirk blinks and slides his gaze away, but Jake hauls him by his hair. "I _said_ ," he repeats, only this time it's a command, "look at me, Dirk."

Dirk looks at him. It burns even hotter, this time, but he doesn't look away.

"Keep looking at me," Jake says. "Don't stop looking at me. No matter what. Okey doke?"

"Yeah." Dirk nods.

He steps closer. His cock slides along Dirk's face, and Dirk is only happy to stretch out to tongue at his gorgeous, surprisingly smooth balls. Jake bites his lip and Dirk squirms forward as far as the cuffs cut into his wrists, sucking one ball into his mouth. He licks and sucks. He looks straight up, even though almost all he can see is Jake's cock and his chest and his chin, but if he angles his head just right, he sees Jake's eyes.

"Alrighty," Jake says. He pulls back. His balls fall from Dirk's mouth with a pop.

He changes his grip on Dirk's hair, and he points his cock to Dirk's open mouth, and he thrusts hard. At the same moment, he turns the rig on.

Dirk's eyes fly open wide. He gasps and groans loudly around Jake's dick, but barely any sound escapes, because Jake lodging in his throat, and Dirk is swallowing, swallowing, swallowing, oh god it's so much, it's too much. The dildo in his ass, which he'd almost _forgotten_ about, is suddenly vibrating _hard_. The whole saddle is. His cock thrums, his balls ache, his entire groin is fucking vibrating, and shit. Shit, he built it way too strong, it's _way too strong_ , and Jake is forcing himself deeper.

Instinct kicks in. Dirk tries to pull back, struggling against the hand in his hair. It's too big, too deep, he's choking, he needs to breathe. He squirms as far away as he can, but he whimpers as it fucks him back against the dildo. Jake doesn't give him any quarter; he buries his cock until Dirk's throat is working wildly around him, until he's fighting for air, until there's a thick nest of chocolate brown pubes against his nose.

Dirk doesn't close his eyes and he doesn't look away. He keeps his throat open, he struggles to keep his cool, and fuck, fuck, he is so hard right now.

Jake pulls back. Dirk sucks in a breath through his nose, thick saliva filling his mouth, and Jake only gives him a second before he thrusts back. God. Fuck. This time, Jake gets it in his throat, and he hauls Dirk's head forward, and he thrusts. Thrusts. Thrusts. Thrusts. Dirk goes to breathe. Can't. Goes to swallow, can't. Goes to pull back, can't, because Jake is holding his hair so damn _tight_ , and he squirms back against the dildo, ah, the vibrations are making him lose his _mind_ , his throat works and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he's --

Jake pulls back. Dirk gasps for air, blinking hard -- hard, but not fast, fuck that, no fucking _way_. A thick rope of saliva trails from the back of his throat to the head of Jake's straining cock.

"Good boy," Jake says, and Dirk shivers, moaning, leaning forward because the vibrations in his ass are _too much_ , which presses his dick flush against the saddle and Jake is back in his mouth.

His shoulders tremble and ache. He needs to sit back, sit _all_ the way back, and he does. The dildo goes so fucking deep. His brain is starting to skip like a scratched up record. Jake lets go of his hair just so he can cup the back of his head. He goes so deep that Dirk manages to slide out his tongue and bathe Jake's balls, focusing on that and not on how he needs to get away from the invading object in his throat, or on how there's a fucking tear slowly rolling down his cheek.

Jake lets of a long, shuddering groan, and it's all so worth it.

Dirk moans. He pulls back, and Jake holds him tight. He pulls again, harder. Jake lets him go, and he pants and coughs, swallowing hard and gasping for air. He can't stop whimpering, mewling. He rolls forward and his dick against the vibrating saddle. Backwards and his ass is filled. Every time he breathes out, it's a moan.

"Lordy," Jake gasps, stroking his own cock. Dirk's spit is so thick on it it looks like fucking lube. "Look at you."

Dirk tries to say something. Something smart, something clever. A formless, pathetic kind of groan comes out, like his mouth doesn't remember how to make words. Jake laughs. It sounds a little wild. Well, good. At least Dirk isn't the only one slowly losing it.

Maybe not so slowly. He squirms back and forth. The pleasure is _intense_.

Jake cards fingers through Dirk's hair. The touch is so tender that Dirk's entire scalp prickles. "Shit. Aren't you just the most fetching fellow I've ever seen?"

Dirk mostly remembers how to breathe, now. "M'not," he manages to say, and is inordinately proud of himself.

"Oh, now, you put a sock in it!" Jake chastises, and then, eyes glittering and wearing the most _shit-eating grin_ , he bites his lip and says, with mock thoughtfulness, "Or, better yet..."

Dirk opens up without even thinking, and Jake laughs as he slides back in.

He's got both hands on the back of Dirk's neck, rocking in and out, and Dirk's mind is just a howling wasteland of static when he says, "You're damn close, aren't you?"

Dirk whimpers around Jake's dick. He can't help it. He can't. His entire body is afire. There isn't a single part of him that isn't in pleasure or pain. He's started to forget where the line is drawn between the two. He's shaking all over, and his throat works and works and tears roll down his face.

It's all too much.

"I've got a bit left," Jake warns. He's breathless, he _has_ to be close, Dirk is working so hard, he's being so good. "Don't you blast on over that finish line without me, Dirk."

Fuck, no. No way. He's dangling on the edge, flopping like a fish on the line. He was close enough that it was frustrating, close enough that it was killing him. He's crying like a bitch. Fuck. He groans in protest.

Jake slaps him. Not hard, enough enough to make his eyes fly all the way open and his mind to skip a beat and him to jump to attention.

(this jostles the dildo in his ass, fuck, fuck fuck)

"Don't come," Jake repeats. He pushes up his glasses, and there's something so incongruous about the motion, something he'd do over breakfast or on his tv show, that it kind of shifts the whole world onto its axis and suddenly everything is unreal. "If you hit the high note before I do, Strider, I'm not turning that confounded machine off."

Dirk whimpers, but he nods.

He shouldn't have made any promises. Jake rams his face and jerks his hips and it's merciless, it's so deep that Dirk's throat clicks and he gurgles and fuck, _fuck_

Colours erupt and it's all he can do, it's literally the only thing he can do, to keep his eyes open as he comes. He stares up at Jake, sightless, eyes glazing, his body is taut like a string, and Jake looks like he's witnessing a sunset --

And then it's over. It's over, and he's still strapped to the saddle, and his arms are still pulled back, and Jake angles his head and doesn't even give him a moment to think.

Oh, god.

Oh, oh, oh Jesus god.

He can't, he can't, he -- fuck, no. He's done, it's done, okay? The object in his ass is merciless, it seeks his prostate like a homing missile. The saddle presses against his balls, his cock. Fuck, fuck. 

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Jake says, his voice seeming to come from a million miles away. Dirk whimpers. Stop, stop. _God_.

All he can do is the best he can do. He dives down on Jake's cock, straining against the chains. Jake gasps. He pulls him tight. He thrusts hard, deep, fuck, and Dirk's tongue moves, all over the underside, his mouth is a fucking reservoir of sour-tasting saliva and he lets it leak down over Jake's balls, licks as hard as he can.

Don't throw up, he tells himself, gagging. Fuck, keep it together, Dirk.

"Oh, that's good, that's good, that's mighty good shit, Dirk, that's the shit, that's the ticket." Jake is babbling and babbling is good, it's good, come on. Dirk sobs around the dick in his throat, and it comes out sounding like he's gargling. His dick _hurts_ , half-hard and mired in his own cum. He needs to get Jake off or this will never end. He's dying. "Now you're on the trolley, that's just the thing, that's just how to do it, Dirk, Dirk."

Don't be ungrateful, Dirk, some strange, fully aware part of him says. Jake English saying your name, Jake English coming undone, Jake English mercilessly fucking your throat -- what more could you want?

Jake shudders and shouts.

He pulls back. Dirk finally closes his eyes -- fuck, he's _earned that_ \-- and gasps when cum hits him. In his hair, on his forehead, dripping down his nose, hanging from his cheek bones. His throat is raw and his jaw aches and the _fucking_ saddle is still hammering at him.

"Tur --" he croaks, his voice scraping through his throat _embarrassingly_ thick and rusty, like an old creaky door hinge.

"Shitknickers," Jake sighs happily, patting his cheek like he's a 1920s businessman's protege.

"Jake...!"

"You did amazing. Oh, lordy. Oh, hells bells, that was.."

"Turn it _off_ ," Dirk heaves out.

"Oh -- blast and damnation, Dirk, gosh almighty!" Jake snaps to attention and the springs into motion, fumbling with the controls and --

" _Shit_!" Dirk bellows, and was the damn thing _not even on full blast_ this whole time?

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Jake scrabbles, and then, all at once, it stops.

And then

it's just

ah.

Holy.

Fuck.

Dirk wants to collapse. He wants every bone in his body to turn into jelly so he can just sink into a puddle on the floor. But the fucking rig he built is still holding him, even if it's no longer turning his body and brain to a sack of gravel. "The..." he starts to say, but Jake is already working at the cuffs. There's a rattle of chains and his wrists are free and he just -- falls forward, bodily, all of him. The dildo slides out of him and he lets out a shuddering cry and it feels like his nerves are shredding and it feels _so good_

There are about two solid minutes where he's barely aware that he's a human being who exists. Not just a quivering pile of overstimulated, sodden, well fucked flesh.

Then Jake is sitting by him. He feels him cuddling close, arm arm swinging over his back. His hands are big and strong and warm and solid, and he's gently massaging cold-burning lotion into his shoulders, his hips, his aching neck. He's murmuring sweet nothings, and when Dirk manages to shift his fucking brain back into a realm where sound exists, he can pick out the words.

"Shucky fucking darn, Dirk..." he's saying, in the kind of low and awed voice generally saved for religious observances. "You're amazing. What a trooper. Shit, I did a real number on you, didn't I? And you took it like a champ. Gosh, you're still shaking all over. That sure was something. _You_ sure are something. I can't believe how god darned _lucky_ I am. Finding myself shacked up with a bloke who sets all this _up_... who does that? Just about nobody, I think. Only you. You're one of a kind. You're a friggin'... just... once in a lifetime... hell, I love you."

Dirk closes his eyes tight and magic blossoms in his belly. Jake almost never says it. And hearing it is like -- is like just about the best fucking thing that's ever happened to anybody.

"S'good," he manages to say. Kind of. Words are like oatmeal. It's like his tongue and throat and mouth have forgotten how to do anything but, uh, yeah. The thing that just happened. Fuck, his face is getting crusty. Fuck, he doesn't care.

" _You're_ good," Jake shoots back.

Dirk glows.

An hour later he's in bed, burritoed up in a blanket, and Jake is bringing him a steaming mug of coffee. Jake brews amazing coffee. Dirk never knew how fucking good that shit could be. He holds the cup with both hands. He's still not back on two legs, really, but the rich, buttery steam coming off the cup helps.

Jake settles in beside him.

"How are you making out, there, chum?" he asks.

"I'm good," Dirk says. His voice is still a little hoarse. Coming back to himself like he is, it makes him blush.

"I'd say." Jake sighs happily.

"Kind of sore. Kind of tired. Kind of embarrassed. But, uh, good."

"Embarrassed," Jake repeats, and scoffs. "What in tarnation do you have to be embarrassed about?"

Dirk barks out a laugh. "Uh, for starters, the fact that I spent all day ignoring important projects so I could build a rig to get destroyed on. Like, for myself. Goddamn. Isn't that some special kind of..." _Pathetic?_

"Amazing?" Jake supplies. Dirk almost laughs. _Incongruity detected._

"Sure," he says, shaking his head and taking a sip of the coffee. Damn. It's incredible.

Jake makes an annoyed sound. He covers the lid of the cup with his hand, as if it's gonna prevent Dirk from drinking. Obviously, he yanks it away after a minute, waving his hand around. Yeah, genius, steam is hot. "There's nothing wrong with knowing what you want!" Jake says as he nurses his war wound.

"Yeah," Dirk agrees, to end the conversation.

"No, I mean it! Shit, you strolled on out of there, propositioned me right up, and got down to brass tacks, lickety-split! _Everybody_ should know what they want that way!"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Cut that out! Was it good? Did you like it?"

Dirk shudders. He swallows, hard. "Fuck yes."

"I liked it, too."

That really shouldn't make him feel the way it does. He ducks his head to hide the flush of pleasure he knows crosses his face. Jake liked it. Jake likes him. Jake _loves_ him, Jake thinks that he's amazing, Jake considers himself lucky, Jake wants to be with him, Jake is a big deal and could be anywhere in the world with any _one_ in the world and instead he's here. Really enjoying the fact that Dirk Strider likes his face fucked.

"Okay," Dirk says, and this time he kind of means it.

"Okay?"

"Right on, yeah."

"Okay," Jake agrees. He curls up around Dirk and nestles his head on his shoulder and Dirk swears that he wouldn't be even a little surprised to hear him fucking chirping happily like a troll.

"Okay," Dirk repeats, smiling. "Okay."


End file.
